


"So...like a chicken?"

by mortysmithh



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Egg Laying, Eggs, M/M, Overstimulation, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: Some dirty nasty self-indulgent oviposition fic with a kinder than usual Rick and a Lizard Morty!Note: Lizard Morty has dicks and a vagina. If that's not your jam, head out now homie





	1. Finding Out

It all started with a question. It was just supposed to be a joke, really; a mere observation, a statement more than an actual inquiry.

“So, what’s- how’s it all work down there? Are you like, a chicken, or what?”

And then Rick had realized his fatal mistake as Morty had slapped him across the face with a scaled hand, hard enough that his lips part and form that oh-so-classic  _Rick face_ before his head jerks to the side. One cheek glowing red, he ponders what he did wrong - alcohol tends to fog a man’s brain, after all - before realizing that he just asked his friend of two and a half months about his genitals. Yeah, maybe he should’ve thought that one over before asking such a personal question, but (in his mind), to be fair, he never claimed to think before he speaks; ‘being a genius never equates being _smart_ ,’ as he likes to say.

Lizard Morty (known more commonly as just ‘Morty’) has recently been...adopted, of sorts, into the Smith household. After having Summer, Beth had decided that she was through having kids, and so, never had a son to begin with. A Mortyless Rick is lost, however, and Rick Sanchez of dimension KX-900 is of a softer variety; always has been. So, it didn’t take much thinking before he decides to sign up for a Morty adoption program. He didn’t really think over the text at the bottom that demanded he be willing to accept ‘any and all types of Mortys.’ He’d just sort of assumed that there were only boy Mortys, girl Mortys, and maybe a fish-alien one here and there.

However, it was no big task to shoot every member of the Smith household with a memory-altering gun, and within five minutes, everyone is welcoming their newly adopted son with open arms and big grins and not a single question about his slitted pupils, tail, or scales. Morty had expected as much from a Rick, and really, if he’s honest with himself, he’s just glad to have a family that doesn’t treat him like a freak. His previous Ricks hadn’t used as much tact when taking him in, a fact that he’s intent upon remaining bitter about for as long as he can.

But he didn’t expect to be questioned about his genitals, and...there were a lot of things that led up to the slap being _maybe_ harder than it had to be. Maybe he’s been dealing with a crush from day one, unused to Ricks being kind and actively working to have their Mortys accepted by the others living with them. Maybe he’s been sort of infatuated with his new Rick since day one, felt a sort of ‘bond’ with the man, as cliche as it may sound. And maybe he’s starting to go through his first laying since arriving at the house, and _maybe_ , just maybe, that was the reason he’d been returned to the Citadel so many times, and he can’t bear the thought of being forced to leave such a loving and caring house, Rick Sanchez included.

He looks more like a fish than a reptile when his mouth opens and closes several times, but before he can even attempt to cobble together an apology, he can feel his nose clogging up and his eyes starting to water, and g _od fucking dammit he’s crying and he fucked up and he’s going to get kicked out and_ -

-and...there’s...there’s a hand on his shoulder. And Rick is shushing him softly, alternating between gentle squeezes and two to three pats at a time on his tense, yellow-shirted shoulder, and…

_‘Oh, damn these hormones. This is why I hate layings.’_

With a big, gross sniffle, he looks up from the ground and offers up a watery, apologetic smile. “I, uh. S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to, to freak out like that, Rick,” he murmurs out, fighting the urge to stare back down at the cement ground instead of at the elder’s face. He doesn’t really expect the response he gets next.

“Hey. I…” Rick clears his throat, darts his eyes off to the side and rubs at the back of his neck with an awkward little shuffle of his feet before looking back at Morty. “...I-I deserved that. Really. Uncalled for, even if I’m- y’know, even if I’m  _a Rick_ .” He pauses, the words almost visibly arranging themselves in his mind before he speaks again. “So, wh- uh, wha- why-” His brow furrows with slight irritation at himself before he clears his throat once more and tries again. “I-I can’t really think of a less callous way to ask this, but, uh, you’ve never really...cried in front of me before. Like, did I ask a _really_ rude question, or are you a bit, a bit more...sensitive?” Absently, he rubs at his cheek, the skin red and starting to swell up.

His eyes go wide, and he hurriedly wipes the tears out of the corners of his eyes before he sniffles again - more softly, this time - before he shakes his head, nods, then shakes his head again, this time at himself. “Well...yes and no, to both questions?” He bites his lower lip, releases it as a second thought, then chews on it lightly with pointed teeth as he thinks. “Um, so, I- well, it _was_ a rude question, but, I-I wouldn’t usually have _cried_ over it. I-It’s just- it’s sort of, sorta like- uh…” He can’t really think of a better way to phrase it either. Seems they’re both having brain farts today.

It all comes out in a sort of... _mashup_ of words.

“I-IlayeggseverytwomonthsanditsucksandIgetallhormonalandIhateitandIwishIwasn’tsuchafuckingfreakforitand-”

Two hands held up, palms facing outwards, flash into his vision, and it causes him to shut his trap with an audible click.

“Woah! Woah woah _woah_ , Morty, calm down,” Rick says, a bit of a giggle bubbling up out of his throat. Not at Morty, but at...pretty much everything else about the situation. “Okay, slow _down_ , an- and start again. What I gathered is that you lay eggs every month or whatever, and y-y _eeuurgh_ our hormones get all outta whack. Right?” When he receives a nod from a pink-cheeked Morty, he nods and continues. “And you have this _delusion_ that this makes you a freak, for doing what I - and correct me if I’m wrong - would think is _normal_ a-amongst other lizard people like you. Am I right?” He gets another, slightly more ashamed nod, and that’s when he lets his hands down and sighs softly, opening his arms in a clear invitation for a hug. “C’mere, you peanut. If anything about you was too freaky even for a Rick, I- I think we’d have bigger problems than an emotional Morty, wouldn’t you agree?”

He takes it with a grateful little hiccup, more tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he buries his face into Rick’s chest, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s torso and his tail curling around the other’s calf. “Mm sorry, Riphk,” he mumbles into the other’s damp shirt, blunted claws digging slightly into Rick’s back.

“Hush. Y-You- you have nothing to be sorry for.” He pauses to gather his words, then asks in a much softer voice, “...is this why you’ve been cold to me, Morty? You, uh...you didn’t want to get attached, only for me to return you?” He doesn’t get a verbal response, but the feeling of the teen’s arms and tail tightening around his body is more than enough of an answer. Determination rises up in his chest, along with the few faint beginning sparks of love - though whether it’s romantic or purely platonic, even he’s unsure at the moment - and he hugs Morty that much harder right back. “Well, u-unless you try to murder me in my sleep more than once or twice a month, I’m not getting rid of you. Y- You- you’re stuck with me, kid,” and he tries to sound gruff but there’s a little grin in his voice and he can’t really be assed to stop it from shining through.

Morty’s not even able to try and hide the joy Rick’s words bring him, and he smiles real big into Rick’s chest, peeling himself off of the other’s front and muttering another apology about the wet spot his tears had left before he looks up at Rick with that same, big smile. “I-I- thank you. Really, I...thank you. And I promise I’ll only try to kill you once a month tops,” he says with a big, cheesy wink.

That pulls a snort of a laugh out of Rick, and he flicks at Morty’s head spine (gently, of course) before tugging the teen in for one more, quick hug. “Good. Now that we’ve got all the _gushy_ shit over with, I- I do need you to be real with me, Morty. How soon is this, uh...egg business gonna happen? D’you- _eulp_ \- d’you need anything, like, a- a nest or someth- _stop laughing at me_ I don’t- I don’t know how this shit works!”

The nest comment has him in a fit of giggles, and he’s nearly bent in half from clutching at his stomach, teary-eyed once more (but for an entirely different reason this time around). He straightens up eventually, and wipes his face with the collar of his shirt before he’s able to stammer out, “I- _hhaha_ \- I-I, um, I-I don’t need a _nest_ , Rick, but...I guess some old shirts and blankets. Stuff that you don’t mind getting stained or, uh, torn up. A lot of water, too. And, could you...could you maybe, um, make a soundproofing device? It, um. I-It gets messy, and...y-y’know, _loud_.” He gets a brief idea, and immediately dismisses it, but it keeps worming its way back into his mind, and he decides, ‘fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen’ as he blurts out, “I- could I use the garage?” He slaps a hand over his mouth, then the other one on top of that, then yanks them away as he frantically begins both backtracking and explaining why using the garage would be better than his bedroom.

_‘I’ve gotta admit...he’s real cute, all flustered like that.’_

“Hey! Do I need to get you a- a fuckin’ stress teddy bear or somethin’? Calm _down_ , kid. I- I think it’s a great idea, actually. Egg laying in general does sound like it could get pretty me- _eeUUURGH_ \- messy, and cement is a hell of a lot easier to- to clean up than wood floors and bedsheets.” He’s already designing a soundproofing system in his mind; not only would this be good for Morty’s...time...but he’d get to be _way_ more ambitious with his late-night experiments and inventions. Not that he particularly gives a shit about Jerry’s lack of sleep, but he wants Beth to rest well, and his worthless son-in-law’s bitching gets real annoying real fast. “Yeah, I- I’ll have the soundproofing shit done by tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like it. When’s it start again?”

“Um...a-a week.” His smile is tiny and awkward and his knees are pressed together, cheeks pink, but he really is trying his best.

Rick barely resists the urge to facepalm, then nods. “Alright. Give- gimme some more _warning_ next time, though, sheesh! There’s clean old blankets and clothing in the cabinet on the very right, top shelf. Just take everything; Beth hasn’t gone through it in years, I doubt she’ll miss any of it. I can just portal in water bottles whenever you need-” And here he’s cut off by an embarrassed Morty, the younger’s cheeks now positively _glowing_ with red.

“Actually, I-I- I was kind- kind of h-hoping you- you’d stay out during the- m-my laying,” he says, stuttering and tripping over his words. “N-Nothing personal! Just- you know, it- it’s a personal process, f-for me.” He waits to be told he’s getting greedy, to shut the fuck up, anything negative, but he gets a slightly surprised look from Rick before it’s followed by an understanding (though still somewhat questioning) nod.

“Huh? Oh, uh...yeah, sure. Then I- I’ll stock up on water bottles for you down here, so I won’t...interrupt anything. Good?”

“Y-Yeah, it- that’s good.”


	2. The Fuck Sex

“Alright, blankets?”

“Check!”

“Water bottles?”

“Check!”

“Dildos?”

“Che- _hey!_ ”

The heavy _clunk_ of a plastic water bottle hitting the ground sounds throughout the garage as Morty chucks one at Rick’s head for that comment, though Rick’s laughter drowns most of it out.

“I was just _kidding_ , Morty!” A pause. “Seriously, though, do you need any _toys_ , or- alright, _alright!_ You have everything you need?”

A deep, apprehensive sigh sounds, accompanied by the nervous heave of Morty’s chest, and he nods shakily but resolutely. “Yeah, I- I’m- I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a glance towards Morty, Rick nods before pointing to a dark grey device attached to the door, wires snaking out from it in eight places. “Just hit the green button to activate the soundproofing, the blue one to lock the door, and the red one undoes everything. Y’got that?” He gets one more nod from his adopted grandson, then returns it. “Alright. And...y’know, not to- not to be _sappy_ , but...if you need me, just- just call me. I’ve likely seen grosser shit than a laying. Stay safe, kid.” And with that, he walks out, firmly closing the garage door behind him.

 _‘Great. A whole week of nothing but space adventures alone and my tiny, never-used bedroom.’_ The genius is already bored out of his mind. He decides to tinker with another, more advanced version of Butter Bot, cursing as he burns a finger or nicks a joint here and there.

Meanwhile, Morty’s happily setting up his nest, having been too embarrassed to sort it out right in front of Rick. He trusts the man to a higher extent than he’d trust most other Ricks, but it’s still a private sort of ceremony, shredding and patting down the various blankets and clothes until they’re arranged in a way he deems perfect. He’s practically purring with contentment as he settles down in a round little shape on top of his pile, though he feels like something’s _missing_. His eyes slip shut, and he lets his nose guide him, heightened sense of smell able to tell him more than his own thoughts. When he reopens them, slitted pupils settle on Rick’s labcoat, still slung over the back of his work chair.

“...of course.” He sighs, but gives in anyways, thinking that Rick won’t know anyways. He walks over, hunched over slightly from the ache of cramps starting to kick in, and carefully lifts it up off of the chair before stumbling back into his pile, burying his face into the stained coat.

Rick’s scent floods his sinuses, his mind, his very _soul_ , and he lets out a soft whine before remembering that he doesn’t want an audience for his first laying in this house. With a low groan of frustration, he gets up once more, half stomps over to the door, presses both the green and blue buttons, then plops himself back down into his pile. From there, it’s a simple matter of getting his pants, boxers, and shirt off.

His normally sheathed cocks are already half out, bright red and leaking precum from the tips. He’s never tried to stroke both at once; his hands are clawed and rather small, and that much stimulation...well, the thought of it scares him. One suits him just fine for now, and he lays back with a small, tentative moan, tensing up and staring at the door for a minute before nodding to himself.

_‘Rick knows what he’s doing. Nobody will hear me. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, all thanks to Rick.’_

The main goal is to get himself to relax fully enough that the eggs won’t hurt so bad when they come out. Rick’s labcoat has already gotten him started; normally, the fear and anticipation of a laying would make it a _lot_ more difficult to get this aroused from the start. He buries his face back into the coat, but discovers that it’s _uncomfortable_ to have his torso facing one way and his hips another, so he uses his dry hand to simply scrunch a handful of Rick-scented clothing up against his nose, the other jerking himself off with slow, somewhat twitchy movements.

He whimpers out Rick’s name, softly and steadily, but rising in volume, enough so that eventually, the emergency microphone on the soundproofing device activates and picks up his voice.

Rick lets out a string of curse words that would make Beth literally tear his ear off when his computer monitor blinks on, soldering iron directly touching his skin. He’s about to start yelling at it when he remembers that it was set to activate only if Morty called for him. Just as he’s about to speak through the device and ask if Morty’s okay, a soft, staticky little moan flows through the speakers on his computer. Not just any moan, but a moan of his name. Morty just moaned his name, just moaned out _Rick._ That prompts a flood of questions, but his dick is happy to ignore all of that and simply engorge itself with blood. Because of his adopted grandson moaning his name. Great. He has half a mind to turn it off, but he pauses. If he turns it off, it won’t reactivate, and what if Morty actually needs his help later? It’s a flimsy excuse, but luckily, he doesn’t have to justify it to anybody, and after a brief internal debate, he decides to leave it on. Just...keep the volume turned down, so that he’s not really _spying_ ; just...monitoring, in case Morty starts screaming or crying to an alarming extent.

The teen gets into it faster and faster, humping into his tightly clenched fist as fat globs of pre dribble from the tips of his dicks, the lower one slapping up against his knuckles as he devotes all of his attention to the top one. He can feel several subtle shifts and drops in his lower tummy, moving lower and lower, and he knows the first egg will come soon. He feels confident; he thinks he’ll make it just fine, it’ll be okay, he has Rick here-

And that jars him out of it, because...no he doesn’t. He only has Rick’s coat, not _Rick_ , but- but he _needs_ Rick, needs him so _fucking_ bad, and- and he’s tensing up now, he can’t do this, he’s weak, he’ll tear again, he’ll be returned to the Citadel for being a failure, he-

A loud shriek tears through his entire body as the tip of the first egg leaves his womb and begins to poke out of his vagina. There’s enough lubricant that it doesn’t just _rip_ , but it still _hurts_ , he’s not nearly aroused enough anymore, and it’s a stretch that makes spots swim in his vision as he clutches onto Rick’s coat for dear life. Tears stream down his cheeks, and he doesn’t care anymore about not leaving evidence of having used Rick’s coat; he buries his face in it, frantically inhales lungfuls of _Rick_ in an attempt to calm himself down.

As soon as he hears that first ear-piercing, spine-freezing scream, followed by muffled sobbing, Rick doesn’t take much time to think before reacting. He’d been half-assedly trying to continue modifying Butter Bot 2.0, but Morty’s scream was so full of _pain_ and _fear_ ; a true ‘I’m being murdered’ scream, and Rick’s protective instinct kicks in.

He hisses out an alien command to the door to deactivate the lock, practically kicks the door down before slamming it shut behind him - he’ll deal with Jerry’s complaints later - and whirling around to face where he knows Morty’s corner is, eyes darting frantically around for the teen. Rick realizes in about five seconds of staring what he’s looking at: two semi-hard cocks, a scaley hand wrapped around the upper one, and a pale green egg about as large as a dodgeball sticking halfway out of what appears to be Morty’s...vagina? But the most important thing is that, when Morty lifts away some white fabric from his face to breathe, he’s clearly sobbing, red-faced and face slick with tears, snot dribbling down one of his cheeks as he tries to stop hyperventilating so badly.

As a sixty year old man, he apparently can still run over and drop to his knees on a cement ground with zero repercussion, and he tosses the white fabric (is that his labcoat?) to the side so that he can cradle Morty’s face. There’s no room to be awkward about this; Morty’s _hurt_ and he’s- there has to be _something_ he can do about it.

“Morty? Hey, hey, Morty, can you hear me, buddy?” Both calloused hands are cupping the reptile teenager’s face, carefully wiping away tears and mucous as he hushes Morty, tries to calm him down.

Rick’s presence shakes him, and he tenses up, face tightening as he cries out and something _gives_ as a dribble of red leaks down from a small tear around the widest part of the egg. It’s stuck, and it _hurts_. “ _Ah!_ R- Ri- _hic_ \- Rick? Is- i-issat you? I’m sorry, I- I-I’m a mess, y-you should- _sniff_ \- y-you should g- go,” he whimpers out, though his death grip on the other’s forearms states that he _clearly_ doesn’t want the other to leave.

He frowns, furrows his brow in confusion because, for the first time in a _long_ time, he...doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s never dealt with this before, and _certainly_ not in a teenager that he’s grown to, at the very least, like and appreciate. “Morty, Morty, shh, I- don’t apologize, y-you have nothing to be sorry for. How can- how can I help, huh, Morty? Morty, how can I help you?” His eyes are wide, imploring, and he doesn’t dare break the lock their eyes have on each other, not even when he feels the wetness from Morty’s previously occupied hand seeping into his light blue tee.

The reptilian really wants to just get Rick to leave, this is already so humiliating and painful by himself, he doesn’t want the only Rick that’s ever treated him normally to see him like _this_ , but he twitches - and screams - again, and he can’t really stop himself from surging up to kiss the other with a mouth-bruising action, shivering and blushing and barely able to keep himself up high enough to stay kissing him before falling back onto the blankets. “I- I- n-need to- need to be turned on, o-or it- or it hhh- hurts, Rick. I-I- I know- I know it’s a lot to ask, but c- can you- just- h-help me, I-I promise I- I won’t ever ask e-ever again, a-and I know it’s weird, and-”

There’s a lot Rick needs to unravel about this situation, but his immediate goal is to get Morty to stop hurting, and that’s what he’s going to do, even if he has to learn what he’s doing as he’s doing it. But first, he needs to get Morty calmer, and that kiss seemed to do it a hell of a lot faster than his shushing and face-petting. So, he pulls the teen up for another, gentler kiss, lips slightly parted as his grip eases up on Morty’s face, one hand leaving to gently stroke at a shoulder as the other’s thumb brushes over the damp scales on Morty’s face. When they break, he offers Morty a somewhat shaky but genuine smile. “I said I’d do whatever you need, and- and I fucking _meant_ it, okay? Just...just help me out here, I’ve never done- never dealt with this kinda stuff before. And if I cross a line, tell me to stop and I will, immediately.”

“O-Oh. Um...o-okay. Thank you,” and his words get quieter towards the end, so that he nearly whispers out ‘thank you,’ but he’s sure Rick heard all the same, and another dull ache _pangs_ up through his spine, and suddenly he’s jerked back down to earth and his pained, too-stretched body. “J-Just- just- f-focus on my, um...p-penises,” he stammers out, spreading his legs a little more so that the stuck egg will come out easier. “I-I usually just touch o- one at a time, s-so, uh...j-just- just, do that, I-I guess.” His teeth are clicking every now and then, both from anxiety and from pain, but there’s a strange mixture of endorphins and dopamine from the pain and the realization that Rick is really here helping him through this hellish process, so really, it’s not as bad as it could be.

Rick blinks at the words ‘penises’ before remembering that his grandson has two dicks. Right. “Mmhm, just lay back, a-and focus on breathing, ‘kay? Breathe in deep, exhale soft, and keep doing that. And again, tell me if I do something you don’t want or like, even if you think it’s silly.” And with those final words, he starts gently kissing down Morty’s body, starting at his cheeks before moving down to tongue at his jaw, nibbling at a few places around his collarbone, dipping the tip of his tongue into his tummy chub before very slowly starting to take the teen’s upper cock into his mouth. He takes his time, going slow, swirling his tongue around the head - the musk is spiced, exotic, foreign, and still manages to be absolutely, 100% _Morty_ \- and taking in about another inch with every downwards bob of his head. It’s a strange texture; the head is a blunted point, with a slowly growing knot at the base, and he can feel the equally smooth skin of the bottom shaft pressing up against his lower lip every time he goes down all the way.

The attention has him squirming almost immediately, fresh tears springing to his eyes from the stimulation; it’s _good_ , good enough to make him gasp and almost forget that there’s an egg stuck inside of him. Precum starts drooling from his cocks once more, and he feels stirs of warmth and _need_ growing inside of him once more, wetness beginning to surround the hard shape lodged in his cunt. “ _Oh!_ R-Rick- you- o-oh that’s- _ghnngood_ \- yes!” His hips begin to buck weakly, tears streaming from his eyes as he receives his first blowjob from an expert trying his absolute best to please him. He feels himself nearing orgasm already, and he can’t even be embarrassed about it. However, he feels Rick deserves a warning; lizard people sort of...cum a _lot_. “Ooh, R- Rick, _RickI’mgonnacumRickRickRick_ -!” He bucks his hips once, twice, then lets out a choked wheeze of a whimper-groan as several whitish streams of sperm ooze from his dicks, the bottom one staining Rick’s collar and the upper one still down the elder’s throat. He lets out another loud moan of Rick’s name as he feels a _release_ of pressure, the egg slipping from him with a very muted ‘thump!’ as it falls onto the blankets with a gush of cum and a slight tinge of blood.

It takes him by surprise when he feels Morty cumming directly down his throat, but it’s certainly not the biggest load he’s ever swallowed, and he trusts that the kid has many more loads in him before he’s through. He waits until he’s sure the younger’s finished, then pulls back with a cheeky little grin, pulling his soiled shirt off and tossing it to the side. “First one’s out,” he says in a wet voice, leaning in to kiss Morty’s forehead. “H- How many do you usually lay?”

He has to pause, stars still exploding in his vision here and there as he comes down from his first orgasm of the night, before he can answer properly. Chest quickly rising and falling but starting to slow down, he wheezes out, “A- About- usually t-ten to twenty, d-depends on- depends on season...I-I’m expecting just ten, s- since it’s winter.”

From there, it’s a simple process of Rick alternating between cocks as Morty cums with each egg pushed out. Each time makes him see stars, and by the time the eleventh and final one is starting to breach, Rick is absolutely _soaked_ in cum and spit from sloppy kisses.

“Hey, Morty.”

An exhausted but bright-eyed Morty looks down at Rick, question in his eyes before he has to let his head fall back onto the blankets. “H-Huh? Yeah, Rick?”

“Mind if I try something with your, uh...egg hole?”

Despite everything he’s gone through that night, he has the energy for a small giggle fit. “I-It’s just a vagina, Rick; a-all males have one, where I’m from. And no, I don’t mind. Just, um...p-please don’t put anything inside with the egg still coming out. I think it’s the last one, though, s-so anything else is fair game.” His legs, having drifted shut a bit, readjust themselves so that they’re spread out, but Rick changes that.

With a few quick but careful movements, Morty’s knees are now hooked over the elder’s shoulders, hands gripping at the other’s upper thighs, blunt fingernails digging into the much softer scales there as he flashes the teen a devious grin.

Rick’s up to something, and it sends a thrill of excitement up his spine.

He laps a few times at the younger’s cocks, but goes lower this time. He instructs Morty to hook his ankles behind the scientist’s head before letting go of his right thigh, instead gripping both hemipenes with his right hand and stroking with firm, slow movements. His head moves forwards, and it takes the foggy-brained teen a few moments to register, but he _relishes_ in the spark of realization in the other’s eyes as he leans forwards to lap gently at the sensitive, swollen skin stretched taut around the eleventh and final egg leaving Morty’s body.

The sensation sends a series of small jolts like lightning up his entire body, nerves lighting up as he lets out a hoarse cry of Rick’s name, hips jerking and squirming for a few moments afterwards in movements that he can’t even try to control. It _stings_ , but Rick’s spit and gentle tongue make it so much better; it’s a _wonderful_ kind of sting that his touches bring, and he finds himself begging for more, babbling almost mindlessly, with Rick’s name as his favorite word of the night.

There isn’t much that can make even a kind Rick like Rick Sanchez of dimension KX-900 grin a genuinely pleased grin, but the way Morty whines out his name, melts and oozes under his ministrations like so much melted putty...it’s beautiful, to him. The mess, the reactions, the tears and burnt-red flush across his cheeks, the veritable _glaze_ of cum covering them both; it drives him crazy, and he can’t get enough of it. He dives in with cautious gusto; teeth never come into play - and if they ever will, certainly not during a laying - but his lips and tongue get plenty of workout. As the egg pushes past its widest point, it’s a simple matter of letting the light green shell plop down onto the ground, some muffled clacking signifying that it’s joined its fellow eggs on the soaked blankets below. He looks up at Morty right as the kid looks down at him, and when he sees the other give a very faint nod, his grin returns and he slowly, carefully dips his tongue into the other’s stretched and bruised vagina. He cleans up every single part of it that he can reach, soothing the aching muscles and skin the best way he knows how: with his sinfully skilled mouth.

Morty’s last orgasm isn’t as intense or mind-shattering as the last seven (eight?) he’s had. It’s more...relieving, in a sense. He feels a wave of coolness wash over him from head to curling toes, his tail lashing as he whimpers out Rick’s name for the last time before he blacks out. He’s only out for about ten minutes, but when he comes back, he’s in a warm bathtub with Rick seated behind him, warm chest against his scaled back as he’s scrubbed so, so carefully.

“Y’know, you- you can fuck me, i- if you, um...need help, t-too,” are his first words as soon as he’s awake.

A choked sputter sounds from behind him, and he can’t stop himself from wheezing out a laugh at the look on Rick’s face. Oh, if he had a camera, he’d save that and print it out to keep _forever_.

“ _What?!_ M- Morty, you- y-you can’t just _spring_ that on me, jesus fucking _christ!_ You- y-you just went through a lot, j- just lay back and let me clean you.” He pauses, and cleans the teen in silence for a few minutes before muttering, “...but, if you’re still up for it, w-we could mess around in a week or so.”

“I-I think I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and/or Kudos if you liked it!!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr's @mortysmithh, send me art or fic requests!!


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